One Day More
by only as a muse
Summary: Life, in all it's glory, is never easy.
1. Chapter 1

**I was recently re-reading "Gone with the Wind" and decided that I would attempt to write a piece of work that tried to keep Scarlet as much in character as possible. At the beginning, perhaps she may not seem to be the Scarlet that we all know an love, but it is important to remember that as childish and happy and whatever you want to call it she was, she was also an alchoholic who didn't necessarily handle emotional situations well. This is simply one of the many ways I believe she might have responded to the compounded emotional strain of Melanie dying and Rhett leaving.**

* * *

She wasn't the type of person to fall under pressure. She triumphed. She was childish. She was anything but carefree. She was stubborn. She was Scarlet O'Hara.

"That Scarlet is gone," she said to her deteriorating reflection. Her eyes were empty as she continued, "Gone. And a woman named Scarlet Butler stands here before you in her place," she held back a sob as memories flooded her. She hadn't always been like this. No. She hadn't been Scarlet O'Hara since the war.

_ It isn't just my last named that's changed, _she thought as she turned from her mirror to stare at her dilapidated bed. _I haven't often been truly happy since the war. The fear of losing. Always losing. It didn't matter what I might have been losing, just that the potential for loss was there._

She may have been an open book. She may have been a child; a shrewd, intelligent business woman, and ignorant of many things. She was many things. To the Old South she was a traitor, a filthy and unladylike villain. To the Yankees and Carpetbaggers she was a breath of fresh air. To Melly, dear Melly, she was a loyal friend. To her children, she was a frightening authorative figure. To Rhett…to Rhett she was many things. She was a child that needed protecting. A woman that needed her space. A frightening animal that was to be feared. A pet that he could coddle. The love of his life.

She sat down at the now worn out desk and pulled out a slip of paper, dabbing a feather quill in the almost empty ink glass. "Who am I?" the woman asked aloud. To no one it seemed. "What am I?"

For a moment, she allowed herself to look back. "Who am I?" she whispered again. She was everything they thought she was. She was everything, and yet, somehow, she was more.

She was the woman who silently went without food so her family wouldn't starve. The woman who would do anything to make sure her family had a place to live. She was the woman who feared too much, who didn't know how to stop being afraid. Afraid that is, until Rhett Butler came and wiped away her tears.

Her new tears, the ones that fell now, weren't for the past or for the late Rhett Butler. (Late, because by now, he was dead to her.) They fell out of shame for what she had become.

It had been two years since Rhett had left. Two years since she had heard from him. Everything had happened in two years. And yet, nothing had happened in two years. She'd given the Peachtree Street home up four months after he left. She wasn't sure what happened to it. She had just left.

She took Wade and Ella and moved far away. She didn't care where they moved to. Just that they were away from Atlanta, from the pain it represented.

She had tried her hardest to connect with her children and for a while it seemed to work. They were happy for once, eager to have a loving mother. Loving insofar as Scarlet could be after having lost everything.

She had thought she had found a life free of Rhett, free of his memory, but she was wrong. One sunny September afternoon, a message arrived at her cottage in Augusta. She thought nothing of it. Perhaps it was her two flighty aunts from Savannah, writing about the social going ons of Charleston society. However, it was not to be.

She had opened the large manila envelope only to discover a handful of legal documents. Divorce papers.

It hasn't been the same since then. She never signed them. She couldn't. She couldn't let go of the man she'd loved for so long. It was then that she fell into her real depression. Then that she could no longer go on as a happy mother. She stopped eating and caring for the children. Leaving the few servants she had left to care for them. Everything that had been accomplished in the eight months following Rhett's departure vanished a week within receiving the papers.

Two months passed again before she decided she had to send the children off to school. Ella to a young ladies' finishing school and Wade to West Pointe. No one wanted to go, but Scarlet all she was doing was hurting them by keeping them.

Eventually, the money that Scarlet had taken with her began to run out. She let the servants go. She began to receive numerous letters from Uncle Henry, her lawyer, asking her where she was, why she hadn't withdrawn money from her account in so long, and if she was okay. She never responded to any of the letters, shoving them into her desk drawer and letting them yellow.

Months passed this way. She was now a recluse, her spirit gone. All she was left with were memories. Memories of things she had lost. For indeed she had lost.

She sat there at her desk day after day, asking herself the same question, "Who am I? Who am I?" and everyday she seemed to get no where. Today, was no different. Would not have been different had it not been for the startling telegram she received.

TO ONE MRS BUTLER STOP ELLA KENNEDY HAS FALLEN ILL STOP EMERGANCY STOP COME IMMEDIETLY STOP

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**I will be the first to admit, this is not my best piece of writing. It is in fact, rather crappy. However, it is better than my first attempt at fanfiction, entitled, "Listen to your heart." I re-read that piece recently, and realized that unless you're amazing, fifteen year olds should NOT write stories. Or at least have some sort of copy editor. As it is though, I did like the idea and I will probably re-write it. (I only had three "chapters" done, and look forward to continuing and bettering the story. Finally.)**

**Anyways, I do hope that you enjoy this story.**

PS. I'm thinking about writing a story about the days following Melanie's funeral. I was rereading some posts on yahoo and the idea that Rhett wouldn't have left until the funeral was brought up and uninamously agreed upon that he would have waited to "officially" leave, so to speak, until the funeral. Anyways, yeah, just an idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**I would just like to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews!**

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Life at its meanest can throw you curve balls and at the moment it was fast pitching its way to Scarlet's third strike. When she arrived at Madame Carington's School for Young Ladies, she didn't know what the expect, but she certainly didn't expect the shock she received.

She turned from the pallid face of the girl in front of her, not finding what she so desperately hoped was there.

"The doctors say she won't make it through the night, Mrs. Butler. We sent for you as soon as we realized her cold had taken a turn for the worse."

Scarlet nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. She brushed her hand against Ella's small face, moving the runaway curls. "Could you leave us?" she asked the young Ms. Carrington, daughter of the original owner of the girl's school.

"Of course. If there's anything you need, please ask one of our many servants. You do remember where your room for the night is, I presume?"

Scarlet only nodded and looked back at her only recently beloved daughter. Her heart tore in two. She laughed at the bitter irony of it all. Hadn't it been she who had prayed to God that it had been Ella who had died instead of Bonnie? Hadn't she cursed her daughter's existence since the day her conception was known?

But somehow, this didn't matter anymore. Even a bad, misguided mother at some point realizes the follies of her past. "I was but a spoiled child, dearest. Could you ever forgive me?" she asked the sleeping form of little Ella. "I never was a good mother, was I? I never wanted to be a good mother. I never wanted children. Except for-- well we shant talk about the baby. You were so lucky to have Melanie there for you. We all were," she paused, thinking of the many sins she had commited to her daughter. "You're just a child, a child who wants nothing more from this world than to be loved. And darling, I do love you, but I fear my telling you this may be too late."

Beneath her trembling hands, the child began to stir. "Momma, is that you?"

Scarlet jumped, "Yes baby, I'm here. I promise I won't leave."

Ella coughed, her whole body spasming. "Momma, it hurts," she said in a quite voice.

"Oh darling," Scarlet soothed, holding the child close to her, "It'll be okay, I promise."

Ella nodded her little head, whispering, "I missed you Momma."

That night was the longest night Scarlet had ever known. She stayed up with Ella, comforting her when she woke, telling stories of times past, and holding her when she slept. The whole time never letting herself think of her child's mortality. It was nearly dawn when Ella took her last shallow breath.

Scarlet gently laid Ella back on the bed. She knelt next to the little girl and finally allowed herself to sob. While her current life had not been altogether changed, something inside her altered, broke. She sobbed harder thinking of Bonnie's death. Of Pa's. Of Mother's. Of Melanie's.

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**So, I realize that this is a relatively short chapter, it's only about half as long as the last one, but I should be updating soon. I'm actually pretty busy this week. I had opening night for "Les Miserables" last night and didn't get home until eleven. And I have a show tonight, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon. Plus SATs on Saturday. Fun, right? I also have Improv practice after school today. Needless to say, I'm pretty exhausted. But I hope you've all enjoyed the second chapter and you'll stay with me to the end of this!**


	3. Chapter 3

**(( A/N: I'm sorry for not mentioning this earlier and I haven't found an ideal spot to mention this slash, I can't think of a way to incorporate this tidbit of information into the actual narrative at this point, but Mrs. Carrington's School for Young Ladies is in Savannah.))**

**Chapter Three**

Ms. Carrington entered Ella Kennedy's room the next morning, only to find Scarlet prostrate beside her daughter, her faced marked by dry tears. The young Ms. Carrington put her hand to her mouth in upset surprise. She had never seen such a sad and truly moving sight. She was about to leave the room and close the door behind her, when the Mrs. Butler moved.

Sclarlet rolled over from where she lay, the events of the night still foggy in her mind. She made an unladylike grunt when she saw Ms. Carrington, "Oh, hello Ms. Carrington. I do apologize, I—"

Ms. Carrington smiled, "Please my dear, it is I who must apologize. And please call me Ellen."

Scarlet looked down, the woman's name sending a rush of memories of another, more intimately known Ellen, her mother. "Ellen," she whispered.

Ellen Carrington smiled, trying to show as much hospitatily and kindness as she could. After all, this woman had just lost her daughter.

Scarlet up, as desolate as ever. She looked up at Ellen, her face full of a kindness she hadn't seen in years. _Why, she looks just like Melanie, _Scarlet thought suddenly. At the though, Scarlet visably relaxed. This woman made her feel comfortable, at home; yet she had done nothing to really prove that she might be anything like Melly.

"Mrs. Butler," Ellen whispered softly, "we need to get Ella to a--, " she paused unable to think of a way in which to approach the subject of Ella's funeral with as much subltness and kindness as possible. "We must change her, her journey to God is not yet over."

Scarlet nodded, comprehending what the woman meant and grateful for saying funeral. She didn't know if she could handle it right now. _I shant think about it now. I'll think about tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow I'll feel better and be able to think about this clearly._

Scarlet sighed, thinking about everything that would need to get done, all the things that she would have to do. She just wished for once in her life she didn't have to be the responsible one. That for once in her life someone else could take care of it for her so she could hurt for real, and not hide behind a mask of pride. She had done that so often in her life, that she no longer thought that she'd be able to do it again. She looked up at Ellen again, "Yes, yes, very right. Very right. She must get—," she stopped a moment, choking back tears, "dressed." She pulled herself up off Ella's bed and followed Ellen down the hall.

Ellen led Scarlet to a simple, yet comfortable room. "Here, Mrs. Butler, you should get some rest."

Scarlet nodded, to tired, too emotionally drained to protest, "Some sleep might be good."

* * *

When Ellen stepped out of Mrs. Butlers room, she stepped out of there with a mission. She was going to help this woman and her deceased child. She knew that Mrs. Butler had relatives in Charleston and felt that it was imperative that she alert them of the young child's death. After all, it would be quite odd if they were not concerned.

Ellen sighed thinking of Mrs. Butler, _the poor woman looked so broken, so sad. Understandably she needs some loving attention and support from the Charleston branch of her family._ She had met the Butler family of Charleston on many occasions. Her family was great friends with them, and she was sure Elenore Butler would want to be notified of her granddaughter's death.

She walked into her office and pulled out a paper and fountain pen and began to write.

_My dearest friend Elenore,_

_It is with deepest regret that I inform you that your granddaughter, Ella Kennedy Butler has tragically died of pneumonia. Her mother, Scarlet Butler is here, but I feel the poor woman will need all the support an dlove she can get from hre family at this time. Perhaps you can help her see to the funeral services._

_Again, I apologize for the shortness and crudeness of my letter, but I felt it best to act fast._

_All my love,_

_Ellen Elizabeth Carrington_


End file.
